Procyon
by Belldandy07
Summary: Shaun Hastings struggles to uncover the Earth's greatest mystery, all the while suffering from mysteries of his own. Desmond and Mercer are constantly at each other's throats, determined to kill each other over a single prize. Is there an end to madness?


Fandoms: Assassin's Creed/Prototype

Pairing: Desmond/Shaun/Mercer

Guest Character: James Heller

Warning: If you're allergic to either male/male romance or the featured couple, re-acquaint yourself with your BACK button.  
>Disclaimer: If you believe I own any part of the AC or Prototype series, you're up a creek.<br>Story Notes: This adventure was inspired by the Matrix series and the Trauma Center series. Our heroes and heroines are dressed in elegant black suits.

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><p>He stood still, bathing in the night's crisp glow.<p>

The world had come to a stop, allowing him to breathe but time knew no end. The burdens he carried prevented him from resting, making sure the night would be intolerably long. He had been asked to shut down operations for the night, but that normally simple task was a tremendous headache. He could only concentrate on the suitcases his heart carried.

Moonlight blanketed the realm of civilization, drawing many souls into tranquility's embrace. The soft glow of computer monitors, coupled with the melodious hum of the systems, combined to create a serene tune. He was in the process of double checking his work, bearing no desire to leave any sensitive information exposed. After all, he and his teammates were locked in a battle-a vicious battle against Abstergo. The world's largest organization. Warren Vidic was successful in decimating Assassin teams, and executed no hesitation in tormenting them. He needed to work quickly in order to support his team's cause, but-

Concentrating was just so damn difficult. Breathing was almost impossible.

He found himself clutching his heart at times, hardly able to catch his own breath. On that particular night, though, that particular organ had become a pain in the ass. With every breath he drew, he felt as if he were coming up for air. His lungs viciously gripped onto oxygen, and even as they ached, he drew in more to survive. His life had become an intolerable blur, leaving him breathless at every corner. No matter how hard he try to align the facts, they always evaded him. The world was in a delicate state, Assassins were in Abstergo's hands-

And his life, on an emotional level, had become an excruciating mess.

Ah. His chest wouldn't stop aching. He was supposed to be in bed, but had a great deal of work to complete. Vidic bore no desire to rest, taking great pleasure in the torment of his victims. Aside from everything else, there were riddles to untangle. Reasons behind a strange epidemic. Vidic's toys were released in packs, but... they were no longer human. In the heartless beast's grip, they had transformed into stark-raving mad creatures. Beings that were totally unaware of anything but death, pain and loss. Peering at a slew of on-screen information, he silently praised himself for certain abilities. Thank goodness for a grip on medical research.

_This thing we're dealing with...it seems to be hell bent on attacking the respiratory and endocrine systems. From what I've been able to gather, it issues a message to the endocrine system-a message that forces the body to attack itself. All organs end up going AWOL. They try to revitalize themselves, but that's just as easy as-_

In a heartbeat, he whirled around-and met a set of rather familiar, gentle eyes. A hand had landed on his shoulder, frightening him and forcing him out of observation mode. "Radgie gadgie," the Brit snarled, reeling away from the new figure. "What in the Hell do you think you're doing? Trying to frighten me out of my skin, are you?"

True to form, Desmond Miles held up his hands in submission. He was still in uniform, and undeniably exhausted, but still had enough energy to shine. He was the moon itself, immeasurably warm and gentle. "Sorry, sorry," the young Assassin said amidst laughter. "Didn't mean any harm. Just checking up on you."

Shaun was surprised by the other's concern, but was too tired to reveal shock. He and Desmond hadn't been particularly friendly with each other, not to mention the disastrous mess with Alex Mercer. The team's tactician had been under intolerable stress, dealing with research. Desmond and Mercer had been at each other's throats, each one vying for Shaun's attention. Desmond had been under a lot of stress, and took his frustration out on Shaun. Mercer was ready to kill Desmond, just so he could have Shaun all to himself. And Mercer was already unstable.

Mess, mess, mess. If only he could live in Rebecca and Lucy's world.

"I've been trying to untangle the details behind the Procyon Prototype."

"Is that what we're calling it?"

"Well, makes perfect sense," the Hastings shrugged, giving his team mate a weak smile. "Procyon, after all, is the brightest star of the Canis Minor constellation. It symbolizes man's best friend, said to be the most majestic of all creatures."

The Miles folded his arms. Both men were delighted over the chance to speak on a friendly, quiet level, even if they were discussing work. They uttered no words to convey their delight, but their eyes were loud enough. "So...what you're saying is this," the raven put in, folding his arms.

"Vidic's trying to transform our guys into-"

As always, Shaun was expressive whenever he spoke. "A new world order," the tactician said, holding up a finger. "Vidic wants to create a new breed. Not a new breed of human, mind you, but a new breed of toys."

"Can't we come up with any cures?"

Suddenly stricken with exhaustion, the Hastings took a seat. "If I had a magic wand, I would've have used it long ago," he said in response to Desmond's inquiry. Sadness spread over his weary, gentle features.

"As of right now, though, we're battling a bright ol' clusterfuck."

Desmond took a seat at Shaun's side. Absentmindedly, the tactician occupied himself with his keyboard. Neither man could deny the rift between them, or the closeness that kept them together. Neither of them could shun their relief over the night's silence, even if it was painfully ephemeral. And no longer content with silence, Desmond placed a hand on top of Shaun's left. The eyes of both men met, one pair filled with disbelief and sorrow, while the other pair held immeasurable warmth. Brown eyes glistened, while encased in the light of his station. His heart fluttered, the world knew only silence-

And Desmond's voice shattered agonizing, deafening madness.

"Hey...ah...about..."

The look on Shaun's face cut Desmond's original line of thought. "You all right?" he asked the tactician, voice and eyes overwhelmed by concern. Face cloaked in white horror, the Hastings wrenched his hand from the Assassin's. His face was whiter than paper as he replied.

"I'm in mint condition, Desmond. Peachy keen!"

The Miles rose to his feet in a flash. "No you aren't," he shot back instantly, concern rising. Shaun rose to his feet, the Assassin's hands clamped onto his shoulders-

"Weren't you listening, you bloody moron? I'm all right!"

"No you aren't," the raven repeated, gripping his charge's shoulders. "Dammit, I can't believe I didn't realize this sooner! Just relax. You're gonna be all right!"

Shaun desperately tried to release more protests, but grew smaller and smaller in Desmond's arms. He soon became lighter than a feather, no longer able to support his own weight. Desmond called for Rebecca and Heller, the intensity of his heart scorching the halls.

The last thing Shaun caught wind of was his own feelings, and how he despised himself for tormenting the one, the only love of his life.


End file.
